Loyalty
by Dryphter
Summary: There's a blurry line between extreme loyalty and blind faith, or are they one in the same? But it doesn't matter to Riza, not anymore... RoyRiza. Oneshot. Complete.


**Hmmz, something new! It's a Roy/Riza, cause I'm a sucker for them and have _far_ too much free time these days……**

…_**Loyalty…**_

Loyalty. He admired the loyalty in his men, the loyal, devoted, trustworthy, and companionable men he worked with, but not the woman. No, she had surpassed loyalty, she was blind to everything but him and his cause, and he used to love it. She was his right hand man -- or woman rather. She was trusted with his job when he wasn't there, and most of the time when he _was_. But now, he hated her, hated her for being so stupid.

She had lied for him before, minor things to keep his record clean, but this time she'd gone too far. After taking out the Fuhrer, he'd been hospitalized in critical condition, and even though he was out cold, people wanted answers. Who killed the Fuhrer?

Riza, risking her life and dignity, had stood up and taken all the blame that had belonged rightfully on his shoulders. And while he was in a coma no less -- unable to stop her -- she had done it. He was appalled to think that Riza -- _his _Riza -- would sink that low.

She had even _lied_ to him, and threatened everyone else to play along when he'd woken up. In exchange for her confession, she had asked to be there to take care of her Brigadier General when he woke up.

He had spent half a year in her care, slowly recovering, bonding with the fiery blonde. He rarely made contact with anyone else; she was his saving grace, his angel, nursing him back to health, stopping him from drinking again, or going off the deep end.

But one day, he'd woken up and rolled over, surprised to find that it was nearly noon, and he had slept half the day. Wondering why Riza hadn't slipped in and started breakfast like she did every morning, he limped down the hall to find his house strangely… Empty.

He hadn't been alone in such a long time, it made him feel strangely sad, and so cold. Riza had never failed in her duty before, and if it couldn't be helped, she usually had notice in advanced; it wasn't like her to just not show up. But as he rummaged around, looking for any sign that she'd been there, he came across a note taped to his door.

_Roy,_

_I'm so sorry I didn't tell you sooner, I should have told you months ago, but I couldn't. I won't tell you now, Havoc will be there after lunch to explain. I don't want you to see me this way, so please just accept it and my sincere apology. _

_Riza Hawkeye._

Furrowing his brows and trying to figure out what she was talking about, he placed the note in the breast pocket if his pyjama shirt and looked at the clock.

"_12: 15. Havoc should be here soon"…_He thought, placing the kettle on the stove to make a coffee and wandering about to get ready for the day.

As he was just finishing he drink, there was a knock at the door, and he stood up to answer. Havoc stood in the door, wearing the usual military uniform -- one he hadn't been in for half a year and had sorely missed. But something was off about the usually jovial blonde.

"Hey Mustang". He greeted with a small smile. Roy stepped back to let the man in, guiding him to his living room.

"You want something to drink"? He asked, walking to the kitchen.

"Roy, wait". Havoc stopped him. His usually chipper voice was low, serious, and tinged with… Regret? Roy tilted his head to look at him, his body still frozen in mid step. Something was wrong, and by the look on Havocs face, _very_ wrong. His small frown, downcast eyes with deep bags, messier than usual hair, rumpled uniform, something had happened.

"What happened to Riza"? He demanded, his voice coming out harsher than he'd meant. Jean flinched a bit, but offered a small, sad smile, still not meeting his superiors eyes, or _eye_ actually.

"Well you see, long story"… Jean sighed, rubbing the pack of his neck. "Look, you might wanna sit down, and… Promise not to hurt me". Roy would have laughed at the last comment, but the serious look, and the way he said it told him otherwise.

Without taking his suspicious glare from the top of Havocs hanging head, he sat next to him on the couch.

"Tell me". He ordered.

"Riza, she's in jail". He mumbled. Roy's eyes widened. Riza, who did everything by the book, who never overstepped her bounds or did anything wrong, was in jail? A dirty filthy, small, jail not made for women?

"What happened"? He asked, leaning forward slightly.

"You see, that's the 'don't hurt me' part"… He laughed nervously. He could feel the heat waves of Mustangs glare, and didn't need to be told that Mustang wanted answers. _Now_.

"A while ago, after the incident with the Fuhrer, you were, well, you know, left a potato. But everybody wanted answers, to know what the hell happened, and who killed the beloved Fuhrer. Everybody thought it was you, and as punishment, they were gunna, um, pull the plug". Havoc gulped. Roy cocked an eyebrow.

"They were going to unhook you from the life preserving machines". He explained.

"Why didn't they"? He asked narrowing his eyes.

"Well, Riza told everyone, she did it"… Havoc flinched away, making himself as small as possible against the couch. Roy's eye widened to the point it hurt.

Riza had sacrificed herself for him? He was mulling over this in his shocked brain, trying to figure out if this was the truth, and if so, why? What had possessed her to do something that stupid, as to lie about such a big thing?

Havoc gulped when he noticed the furious look on Mustangs face, the way his fists pulsed, clenching and turning his knuckles white, his teeth grinding, he was going to lash out and Jean was going to be the target most likely.

"Why"? He growled finally.

"Um, I… Don't know. She told us what she was going to do, and we told her we wouldn't let her, that we'd figure things out, I mean, there's always a better way, right? That's what she always said… But she threatened us, she send us away to different posts, or put us in comas or something, so we just… Watched"… He winced at the way his own words sounded, was he really that much of a coward, to let a woman, a _friend_ get themselves into trouble?

Roy exhaled, his stomach churning, and he felt like he was going to be sick. This was too much to think about right now, too much to handle.

"Why now"? He finally breathed. It was quiet, and took Havoc a minute to decipher, but he answered.

"In co-ordinance with her confession, she was aloud to be here for your recovery, but no longer. Seeing as how you're fine, they came to her house last night and took her away. There's a trial tomorrow at lunch, you… Don't have to come". He said. Roy looked up angrily.

"Like hell I won't be there! I'm going to tell them the _truth_ and make Riza wish she'd never said that"! He yelled.

"No, that won't work". Havoc interrupted. Roy stopped to glare at him, his middle finger and thumb twitching.

"Why not"? His voice was low and calm, a deadly combination in such an angry state.

"She told them you'd say that, that you had it in your head it was all your fault, some mental, trauma induced guilt thing… They'll be expecting you to try and stop them from her trial". Jean explained. Roy slammed his fist into the wall, leaving a mark in the drywall.

"What jail"?! He yelled.

'I-I can't tell you! I'm sorry"! Havoc said, cowering further away from Roy.

"Huh, I don't need you to tell me, the Fuhrer's 'murderer', she'll be in the military prisons high security". He snorted, grabbing his jacket and pulling his gloves out of the pocket.

"Wait"! Havoc called after him, running to the front door just as Roy had put his gloves on.

"Roy listen to me you can't"- He was stopped when he came face-to-face with Roy's gloves, positioned to snap in a split second, and just brushing the tip of his nose. Jean gulped and held his hands up.

"Alright, I won't stop you, but I'm coming with you". He said, trying to steel his voice against his furious leader, but failing miserably. Mustangs eyes narrowed, but he turned on heel and stalked off out the door.

Jean scrambled after him, taking the time to close and lock the apartment door. Havoc had just stumbled into the passenger seat when Roy pressed on the gas, the tires squeaking then suddenly speeding off.

He sunk back into the seat, slamming his eyes shut and gripping the sides of the seat until his knuckles turned white.

"_Oh god I hope we're not in an accident"…_He thought, Roy having not given him enough time to close the door, let alone put on his seatbelt. They approached the imprisonment section of the military building, Jean thanking the gods that there were only four cars in the parking lot, and that the gate was already open.

Mustang sped through the opening then slammed on the breaks, causing the car to skid to an angled stop, and landing perfectly in a space at the end. Jean took a minute to calm himself, panting and gasping for the breath he'd held for the entire forty-minute-made-twenty drive. He relaxed his grip on the seat, his fingers felt strange when he flexed them, but other than that he was fine.

"I'm going to – Huh? Roy? Where'd that idiot go"… Havoc grumbled, stepping out of the car and going to the drivers side to close the door. He shook his head and exhaled.

"_No way in hell am I going in there… I'll just walk to the main building and… Work". _He shrugged, placing a cigarette in his mouth and lighting it. He took a deep drag of the cancer stick, holding it in his lungs for a minute, then releasing it in rings.

It was going to be a hell of a day… Might as well pretend to be innocent.

-----

Storming into the building like an enraged bull, Roy stomped over to the front desk where a chubby guard was sleeping, his hands entwined and sitting on his chest, and a newspaper placed over his face, muffling his snores.

"Colonel Riza Hawkeye, where is she"!? Roy demanded, slamming a fist down in the table causing papers to fly up and a jar or pens to fall over. The guard snorted to life, the paper falling as he shot up and groped tiredly for his gun.

"I _said;_ Colonel Riza Hawkeye, take me to her now"! He yelled, leaning over the desk to the guards face.

"I-I can't take you t-to her! She's d-d-dangerous – Sir"! He said, adding a quick salute. Roy grabbed the mans collar and ripped him over the counter.

"You can and _will_ bring me to her, officer" He growled through clenched teeth. The guard gulped and nodded dumbly, opening a drawer and grabbing a red hoop with rings. He walked down the hall, leading the way while he tried to figure out which key it was.

They were nearing the cells at the end of the halls, and Roy could hear people talking.

"C'mon pretty baby, aren't you the famous Riza Hawkeye? Not so tough without your guns, bitch". He heard a man taunt, others cheered.

Fists clenching, they came to a stop at the second last cell in the hall, and Roy growled at what he saw.

An orange clad Riza was laying on her side on a small wooden cot, her hair tousled and clothes wrinkled. But that wasn't what bothered him the most. No, what bothered him the most were the marks on her once flawless skin. Her lip was busted in two places, a still bleeding cut on her forehead, her arm cradled awkwardly to her chest.

For once in her life, Riza Hawkeye looked frail, vulnerable, _defeated_. He frowned at the sight, and heard the guard mumble something as he shoved the key in the hole and turned. He shoved him roughly out of the way, grabbing the keys at the same time – just in case.

"Riza"! He called, falling to his knees just short of her bed. She opened her eyes slowly, the once fiery copper was now dull and lacking its sparkle. She mumbled his name, it coming out harsh and raspy. He snapped his head to the guard and demanded water, and he flew down the hall, one hand holding up his pants.

Turning back to the girl in front of him, he placed a hand gently on her shoulder, looking her over and assessing her wounds.

"L-leave… Now"… Was all she said, her eyes bringing back some of their sparkle. Then he remembered why he was here, and that he was _very_ angry with her, to say the least.

"What the _hell_ were you _thinking_"? He hissed, keeping his voice low. She swallowed hard, her eyes closing again.

"I wasn't". She whispered hoarsely.

"Damn right you weren't! Do you know how _stupid_ that was, _lying_ for me? Did you even _think_ about the consequences before jumping into this, or was it a blind decision"? He asked, his voice a rising crescendo. Her eyes snapped open and glared at him harshly, that fiery passion back again full force.

"And you're qualified to give this lecture"? She hissed angrily. That caught him by surprise, but the guard thankfully chose that moment to resurface with the water bottle. He snatched it out of his hands -- slightly pleased that it was cold -- uncapped it, and set about helping Riza into a sitting position.

He held the bottle to her lips, and she glared at him out of the corner of her eyes, snatching the bottle from his hand and drinking herself. He growled and grabbed her wrist, stopping her. She coughed, causing him to grudgingly let go and let her drink.

Riza had finished half the bottle before bringing it away from her lips and gulping in air. She brought the orange sleeve up to her chin, wiping away the water dribbling down her lip and chin.

He was about to say something, wanting desperately to yell at her, when he was interrupted.

"What it the name of _god_ are you _doing_"?! A nasally voice demanded. He felt a large hand on his shoulder, and someone pull him up. He was turned around to face Armstrong who's eyes were downcast, and he shot him an apologetic look which Roy returned with a heated glare.

"You can't be in here! She's a _criminal_"! The first man said with disgust. He turned his glower to the man, a tall, thin, parliament member with his nose in the air and a pair of thick-rimmed glasses enlarging his already bug-like eyes.

"She's not a criminal, she's a _liar_"! Roy yelled, ripping himself from Armstrong's grip. Riza whapped the back of his head, causing him to yelp and jump forward, and the parliament man to squeak.

"Oh! She's attacking, retaliate"! He ordered, and three bulky guards armed with sticks approached, one hitting her hard in the kidney, causing her to lurch and bite her lip in effort not to scream.

"Stop"! Roy yelled, preventing the men from hitting her again with a well aimed snap of his fingers.

"Armstrong, don't just stand there, _do_ something"! The man ordered, and he heard him whisper an apology. A sharp pinch the back of his neck rendered him unconscious.

----

"C'mon Brigadier General, I'll give you a ride". Fuery offered in an attempt to break him from his brooding. Roy nodded, fixing his tie and following the young man to his car. He slumped into the passengers seat staring dead-ahead, not an emotion on his face at all.

"We'll find a way sir, this is Hawkeye after all". Kain smiled, then started the car in the direction of the courthouse.

----

All she thought about these days was him – Brigadier General Roy Mustang – and how she'd failed him while at the same time saved him. She wouldn't take back what she did, what she said, because it let him live and continue towards his goal. The way she saw it, she was just another necessary casualty helping towards a better world that he would no doubt one day create.

The angry look in his eyes, the harsh desperate growls he had said to her earlier. They would probably be the last words he'd ever say to her, but she'd never forget his voice, his face, him in general.

She briefly wished that she'd said yes on one of the numerous times he'd asked her on a date. At the time, all it would've been was a one-night-stand and another name crossed of in his book so he could one day say he'd slept with every available woman in the military. But that was the past, and she couldn't change it. But she could help change the future, help Roy and his little quest to perfect the world as much as he could.

With those thoughts in her head, she closed her weary eyes and prayed for sleep.

-----

"And did you or didn't you plot against the Fuhrer with your group"? A lawyer asked, pacing back and forth on the floor. Riza sat tall in her boxed seat, her head held high despite the large purple bruises on her back, and the broken arm.

"Yes and no". She answered clearly. The lawyer sighed in frustration. Riza was a very complicated woman, only answering what she was asked, but not going into detail. Roy smirked a little, but was mentally berating her for getting herself into more trouble.

"Care to elaborate"? The man asked on the verge of growling.

"On April 23 of last year, the Fuhrer called me into his office to speak with me. He told me that I was being removed from my position of sniper temporarily and was being replaced as a sniper teacher. There was a catch that seemed highly unfair, and that was if I failed to pass twenty good snipers in two years, I would be dishonourably discharged from the military. I overstepped my bounds and argued, but he was persistent. Ever since then I had plotted against the former Fuhrer. I had showed my coworkers a few months before, asking them if they'd be interested, but they all declined, threatening to expose me. I quickly changed my plan off attack to that night, and took out the Fuhrer and his son, as well as the Brigadier General". Her voice never wavered the whole time, her rich brown eyes never leaving the lawyer.

"You say you shot your own commanding officer, _as well_ as your Fuhrer, and his son"? He asked, slightly appalled at Riza's answer, but smug over the fact she'd confessed so easily.

"Yes, that is correct".

"_That wasn't correct, damn it, she's lying"! _Mustang screamed mentally, increasing his grip on the chair arms.

"What about the former Brigadier General – Maes Hughes"? Roy flinched.

"I shot him inside a phone booth".

"Why"?

"He had discovered my plans and was calling to expose me". She stated simply.

"And the others"? He'd asked, no doubt referring to all the other deaths that had occurred.

"Necessary casualties". She answered in monotone, remembering the words she told herself, while trying not to frown in disgust.

"And do you have anything to say in your defence"?

"No sir". Riza said, the lawyer smiled, a sly, self assured smile, before resting his case.

The judge had called a short, one week recess, in which members of the jury would decide Riza's fate. She would be found guilty, after all, she'd admitted to everything, in astounding detail, coughing up an explanation for everything.

Roy watched, caught between a whirlwind of emotions as Riza was yanked roughly to her feet by a chain attached to her waist and dragged along by a large guard. Her eyes never strayed from their blank forward-looking stare, and he watched with sad eyes as she stumbled along back to her dingy little cell in the prison.

----

Her thoughts – still wholly consumed by a man she hadn't seen in what seemed like _years _– were the only thing that kept her sane her last week. Day-by-day, the feeling of impending doom became stronger, while the voices of hope were all but silenced completely.

But it would all be over soon, and all that would be left of her would be a red stain on a brick wall. Red, red that reminded her of fire, of better days when she watched her Colonel practicing in the training field, the huge explosions carefully calculated, preformed with a fluid grace only he could muster, albeit effortlessly.

The howls of an angry wind outside her barred window reminded her of where she was, and she wished that he was here to supply her with the warmth of fire that he radiated. But he was not, he was at home, maybe not happy, but _alive _– and that was all that mattered to her now.

----

A long and torturous week later, after spending days in a small dirty cell eating old bread and soapy water, Riza emerged back into the tiny wooden booth to await her death. Her ears blocked out the incessant chatter of people around her, and she let her eyes wander over the room of people eagerly awaiting the verdict.

Her eyes found those of her former team – young Fuery's more watery than usual, Armstrong looking on the verge of tears himself, Havoc shaking his head sadly, giving her a look of ashamed pity, Falman's eyes were squinted and hard to see as usual, but he was clearly asking her 'why'? Breda sitting dejectedly at the end, running his fingers through balding red hair.

At the back a small green-eyed blond looked angrily at her, trying to hide the hurt. But no matter where she looked, she couldn't find _him. _Suppressing a frown at the thought that he might be out drinking the day away, she quickly opened her ears to hear the juryman clear his throat and stand.

"We, the jury, hereby find the following, Colonel Riza Hawkeye, guilty on all accounts". A cheer swept throughout the building, drowning out the anguished cry of her friends and the angry cursing of a blond boy dressed in red and black. Numbly walking her last few steps to the courtyard, she thought about her life, all the things she did, all the things she wanted to do… But no regrets, _her_ dying let the man she loved live another day.

As she was positioned against the dirty red brick wall, in front of numerous other stains, she scanned the crowed one last time. Three men stood at attention in front of her, cocking their guns and aiming, and for a second, she thought she saw something.

A flicker of black hair out of the corner of her eye, tortured, half-lidded black eyes, swirling with charged emotions, an unshaven rough face, hunched over and hidden beneath a long black cloak, flashing lazy final salute. And for the first time in such a long time, Riza smiled, looking dead ahead into the barrel of a rifle fifteen feet away, ready to shoot at the words –

"_Fire_"!! Oddly enough, another thing that reminded her of him.

-----

**Okay all done. I'm kinda–sorta-maybe-just-a-_little_ happy with this, I guess… But it's not really up to me to decide, but you! So, if you could, then please review! Oh come on, I even _rhymed_ for you! Oh, and I only half-heartedly attempted to edited it, so if you find any mistakes could you please let me know? Thanks.**


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